Simple Words
by Rianne
Summary: A little bit of acceptance can go along way...


_Disclaimer_: Hi Folks at CBS, Beth Sullivan and all involved with our beloved DQ. Just borrowing them again, they will be returned in perfect condition I promise! All Italicised are quotes directly taken from 'The Body Electric' by Walt Whitman, from The Leaves of Grass 1867 Edition, and most certainly do not belong to me!! The story setting belongs to the DQ gang too; as this is just my little re-write of the final scene of 'The Library'.

Authors Notes: Just another little short, thought I may as well write it whilst the idea was there!! Please read and review!! Thank you! Rianne x

Simple Words.

By Rianne.

The meal had been calm and warming. Colleen had out done herself with a wonderful roast and biscuits, smothered with flavourful gravy. All now sat around the table in comfortable silence, their warm heavy stomachs lulling them to a dreamy full sleep. The excitement of the day, that terrible heart-wrenching burning of her fathers precious books, had dimmed with the sunlight. Although the pain would linger it had been slowly replaced by understanding. A deeper comprehension of the freedom of acceptance now captured her thoughts.

The sight of those books, which had held such a connection to her beloved father, burned in such a fury of misunderstanding and closed-minded expression had once again awakened within her the need to rise above.

The need to challenge public attitudes, to highlight the startling error of their ways, to draw strength from her pain and use it to empower her thinking.

The campaigning spirit her father instilled in her so young still burned and raged and she drank from it as she had in her abolitionist days. Using others powerful words to bring about triumphant confrontations.

She certainly felt her vindication as she had struggled soot smudged and hair mussed to dry the curled and rippled pages of the surviving books. Knowing that she had been correct and feeling great respect for the Reverend and all the others who followed for their offer of support, even if gaining it had required her to shame the townsfolk with their behaviour.

The night had crept around the homestead with light-footed stealth, as all remained seated in their cloud of quiet around the table. No one feeling the inclination to speak. The cloaking silence only disturbed by the faint crackle of the fire in the hearth and Brian's irrepressible yawn.

"Ma?" he asked softly, his voice sounding loud.

Michaela blinked, regaining her reality before she gave him her complete attention.

"Can I go to bed now, Ma?" He continued his question punctuated with an even wider yawn that stretched his baby-soft cheeks amusingly. A day of frog races and lessons learnt could even take their toll on the bountiful energy of a boy as inexhaustible as Brian.

"I'll do the dishes," Matthew spoke up, "You can owe me little brother."

Matthew rose from the table, his plate in hand, gently patting his brother's little shoulders on his way past.

"I'll help you." Sully announced the quiet spell officially broken. As he stood Sully stacked the remaining plates from the table before sliding past Michaela as she stood too. Leaning into her affectionately as he passed, sharing a warm smile.

She was different tonight. She was tired, yes, but there was something more, something relaxed about her, which seemed to shine in her eyes.

Still drowsy Michaela guided the children to their beds in the alcove. Brian asleep almost as soon as his head touched feather down. Undisturbed by Colleen's flickering lamp as curled in her blanket she leapt back to the grounds of Pemberly, and found herself taking a stroll with Elizabeth Bennett and her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner as Austen drew her in with her tale of troublesome pride and tumultuous prejudice.

Matthew, done with the dishes, nodded a quiet goodnight to Michaela and Sully as he excused himself to his bed in the lofty barn, closing the homestead door with a definite clunk.

They hovered, either side of the table, the fire still flickering in the dark hearth behind her, highlighting the copper in her soft hair and shadowing her face a little. Sully smiled, reaching his hand out to the table to collect the book he had left by his coffee cup. The book of poetry that had caused her to fret so, and that pained him. He did not want to leave this tension between them. He did not wish to rush her, but he wanted to ease them to a place where the more intimate areas of their relationship did not make her so afraid.

She had asked for it, had suggested that he took the chance to read her something different, something unlike the medical textbooks that she usually read. Well it had certainly been different. She had been so surprised to learn that the book that had kept him so occupied was a book of poetry. She had been intrigued by this knowledge; it had caused her to view him in a different light.

But she wondered now why she had asked, as asking had dredged up so many confusing emotions that her insides were a churning mess. It was just too hard for her to sit and listen to such words flow from the man who would one day be her husband. Too… she did not even know how to describe it.

He had only wanted to share something he found special with the most important person in his life. It was just a little startling to her that he had known what images lay between the carefully chosen words. He had known that it was not a poem about the ocean, he had made her admit that she knew too, made her say the words out loud, her cheeks ablaze, and yet he had been happy to read it to her none the less.

He had seen right through her over emphasised concern about the children straight to the real heart of her fear. Her anxiety about meeting his expectations, the uneasiness that crept into her stomach when she thought about being with him. How she wondered if she could she please him in this intimate way she only knew about from her text books and the covert whispers of her married sisters. Her fears had clouded the issues, had made every thought she dared to have about this aspect of marriage become visible in a very bad light.

They had talked, and she knew she had been honest. She had even surprised herself. It had felt wonderful to talk so openly with him and not have to dance around all the usual inadequate phrases and fears that seemed to rise with her nervousness.

She had told him. Had admitted that things still frightened her sometimes and he had responded quickly and easily. Getting ahead of herself! Well that was alright for him to say, but she felt better now that he knew, now that the words were out there. Oh how she envied his relaxed air when it came to matters such as this, but it still felt more natural to her to worry. They were so different, yet again.

It truly had been a nice idea, she had been touched by the thought, but was she ready yet? Ready to be guided into this 'different' kind of relationship with him? The fear that had been so strong, so potent, that it had caused her to leap away as she had realised the true meaning behind Whitman's words, had left her so acutely afraid that she just could not remain so close to him.

But her curiosity had still bubbled. She had hidden behind propriety and rules, but this was Sully, 'just me' as he liked to say and she began to wonder if she truly did believe that certain things were not meant to be written about.

Maybe he was right. That easing into such intimacy took time. Was not meant to be simple and easy, or left until the last moment. Maybe there truly was nothing but love behind his intention, that he was simply wanting to show his affection for her by teaching her to take each chapter as it came. Keeping to a natural order of things so as to fully understand the whole book in its entirety; and if today's events had taught her anything…

She saw him reach for the book; his marker was further through the pages now. He had found time to read more since she had last seen him. Both stared at the leather bound volume in his hands before their eyes drifted up to meet. Both expressing their fear and trepidation, her gaze nervous and his dark with caution.

He stepped towards her, merely meaning to wish her pleasant dreams before he vanished into the night.

"Sully?" her voice was so soft. She reached out without thought, her fingers closing around his, which held the poems tight to his chest. "Read some more to me?" The words came out in a rush. She wanted to try, wanted to try for him.

He froze, wondered if he had heard it and she wondered if she had spoken out loud.

The look in his eyes told her that she had managed to say the words.

He had heard the words, but what he questioned was their meaning.

She trembled before him a moment longer before she nodded, once, her answer clear.

He nodded too, lifting his other hand to capture hers as it touched the book. Holding her there. Making sure she was real. Both hearts pounding in unison. Feeling like the slightest miss step might shatter this tremulous moment between them. He was unable to hide his look of delight.

With a sideward glance towards the children, still beyond the gauzy curtain he leaned closer to whisper, "Outside?"

She did not respond, merely picking up a shawl and throwing it about her shoulders before letting him guide her with floating footsteps across the floor to the doorway. He paused momentarily to pick up a lantern that stood above the fire, and to drag on his own coat before stepping through onto the porch, into the faint chill of the night air.

He left the door open, left it like that to reassure her. He was taking this very slowly, they could stop at anytime. Sully's ever-faithful companion, Wolf, following them outside, ready to act as their chaperone.

Their chairs still stood on the porch where they had left them, close together under the glow of the lamp in the window above. He waited for her to take her seat before sitting gingerly beside her. Keeping a sliver of night air between them. Twisting back to place the lamp onto the wooden ledge just behind his chair. Then with one look to her he opened the book to the place where he had left his marker.

He did not sense her movement, too preoccupied with the book and his nerves. He just felt her come to rest against him, her head close to his shoulder, curling into him for added warmth and simple comfort. Her fingers rising to take hold of one half of the book, truly sharing it with him. With one arm free he could not resist gliding it over her shoulder to draw her ever closer, recognising with great pleasure that this was allowed.

Cautiously, clearing his throat to calm his nerves not wanting them to affect his voice, he began to read the first stanza:

"_I sing the Body electric; _

_The armies of those I love engirth me, and I engirth _

_them; _

_They will not let me off till I go with them, respond_

_to them, _

_And discorrupt them, and charge them full with the _

_charge of the Soul."_

Her heart still pounded in her chest, she kept her breathing calm and regular, trying to concentrate on his words and not the soft way the tips of his fingers teased over the fabric over her shoulder. He was so close, and yet… this was not so scary.

She tilted her gaze upward to smile at him, seeing the look of affection so clear across his face, seeing how much her simple trust in him had brought so much pleasure. Feeling him curl her tighter to him, unable to resist, nuzzling against her hair. This was nice, this cozy quiet time.

To think she had been afraid, but these words were not like the last poem, yet.

As she listened to Sully's voice read Whitman's words she began to realize just how quickly she had judged. How she too had been closed-minded. The poem was not just about such intimate things. As Sully continued she began to see how parts of the prose sounded just like her own life; began to understand what Sully had already seen. That it was about her interpretation of the words, what they meant to her, to them. Not what they meant to Whitman, or to anyone else who read them.

In: _"This man was of wonderful vigor, calmness, beauty of person;"_ and _"and the immeasurable meaning of his black eyes,"_ she found that she could not help but to think of Sully. His intensity, and the power of her love for him, their _"personal love."_

There were elements that made her wonder, words that could be read in many ways. Words that brought about thoughts of their combined future, but had other meanings beyond that of the base that she had first heard: _"that you_

_and he might touch each other"_ and _"To be surrounded by beautiful, curious, breathing, laughing flesh is enough,"_ She found these thoughts easier, now that he knew her nervousness, she was engaged to him after all and thoughts like this were all right, especially if she felt brave enough and right now she felt like she just might be. She had closed herself off upon the first suggestion. Now she would try, would make an effort to draw other conclusions, other thoughts.

He was immeasurably filled with love at this surprising change of events. Could not resist drawing her as close as he could, whispering the words slowly into her hair, the softness of her against his cheek.

The poem was changing, switching to thoughts of women, he continued ever slower, half expecting her to call an end to all of this when he saw the rise and fall of her breathing change against him as he read: _"It attracts with fierce undeniable attraction! I am drawn by its breath as if I were no more than a helpless vapor—all falls aside but myself and it;" _He slowed even more: _"Hair, bosom, hips, bend of legs, negligent falling hands, all diffused—mine too diffused;" _

There was nothing he could do. Each word drew images of Michaela to dance before his eyes. The golden cloak of her soft hair, which smelt of flowers, even at the end of a day like this. The clogging smell of burned books washed away. He fought images of her curves buried beneath the layers of her feminine clothing, shifting a little against the wooden chair beneath him. Unable to stop his gaze from sliding away from the words to her delicate fingers that helped him support the book. He paused before he continued, trying to restrain the quiver that developed in his voice as he scanned quickly ahead. He found himself unable to calm the tremble in his fingers, that betrayed him all the more.

She wondered if he was picturing her as she had been picturing him. She had seen his trembling, had sensed his discomfort and was glad that it allowed her a moment to prepare for what was likely to come. She was touched to find that it made her feel so close to him to know how much this was affecting him too, to really share this experience. To be so free and yet so restrained all at once.

"_Ebb stung by the flow, and flow stung by the ebb—_

_love-flesh swelling and deliciously aching;_

_Limitless limpid jets of love hot and enormous,_

_quivering jelly of love, white-blow and deliri-_

_ous juice;_

_Bridegroom night of love, working surely and softly_

_into the prostrate dawn;_

_Undulating into the willing and yielding day, _

_Lost in the cleave of the clasping and sweet-flesh'd_

_day."_

Sully stopped reading, hearing her faint gasp and unable to continue for the moment. There were just too many images and thoughts spiraling through his mind. She remained still beside him. Her thoughts following an imagined path too, feeling every place where they touched, the heat of his chest against her side, his fingers heavy against her shoulder. Felt each syllable flow through her awakened veins, tumbling the words around within her until they had greater meaning, until they burst forth across her skin in a tingling flush.

Imaginings of how it might feel. She knew that he had been married before, knew that it was different for him. But his nervousness had both unnerved her more and in direct conflict brought her comfort. Maybe she was not alone in her flustered feelings, could it really be true that he was just as scared?

He knew that he had helped to start this. Had known that he was shifting the boundaries between them tonight, but he had not expected to feel so nervous. After all he was the experienced one. Then it hit him. He had never thought about it before, but even though he had known the actual act, he did not know Michaela in this way. It would be a first time for both of them; both of them would be beginning from scratch. Learning each other, teaching each other, guiding each other, loving each other.

He realized suddenly that he understood how she felt. She must be so afraid. He was overpowered for a moment by such a swell of love. What a grand gesture allowing him to share these poems with her had been. Just how much trust she placed in him.

He nuzzled his nose into her hair, dropping a gentle kiss, not allowing himself to touch her too much. He wanted to keep his promise that he would take this all ever so slowly. Especially as everything was now so heightened by their new understanding of one another.

"Shall I go on?" he asked softly, reaching up to caress his fingers over the beautiful flush of her cheek. Her eyes told him it was all right to.

He continued, the words no easier now as they brought forth ideas of future children. This was not new ground for them; they had already talked of this, as both imagined a daughter dancing before them, her parents. A beautiful child with a wonderful combination of her eyes and determination, and his dark hair and quiet thinking.

"_The female contains all qualities, and tempers them_

—_she is in her place, and moves with perfect_

_balance;_

_She is all things duly veil'd—she is both passive and_

_active;"_

He smiled down at her, the words conjured Michaela's spirited nature completely, quickly followed by the perfect expression of Sully: "_As I see my soul reflected in nature;"_ and she sensed it too, looking up, their eyes meeting as they snuggled in closer to one another, enjoying this freedom of simply being together, with no uncomfortable thoughts to hold them back.

The next words spoke to Michaela's abolitionist past, to the idea that all mankind is created equal, that human life is not for sale. To think that she shared such thoughts in common with a poet she had completely dismissed for his honesty concerning intimate matters!

She lifted her face to Sully, drank him in as he continued to read, flooded with amazement. Surprised that he knew her so well. He had known that she would feel akin to these poems, to these ideas, and yet he had not pushed, one word from her and he had pressed her no further on the subject.

"_Within there runs blood, _

_The same old blood! _

_The same red-running blood! _

_There swells and jets a heart—there all passions, de-_

_sires, reachings, aspirations;"_

"The Cheyenne…" she found herself whispering aloud as he read. She felt his nod against her forehead. They were on the same wavelength. It was so wonderful to find that they understood each other completely even if it were just for these few moments.

The rest of the poem slid by with a dreamlike quality as she found herself drifting. His voice as her only anchor, his warmth, and the soft caress of his heated fingertips a comfort. She curled ever closer, her hand that held the book slipped away, to wrap around his waist without her usual hesitation. There was no need for such worries out here on the porch tonight. Just the perfect time to relax, to enjoy the rise and fall of his stomach against her. His hand that held the book lowered it to rest upon his knees so that he could turn the pages without her help.

She let her eyes slide closed, the nearness of his body and the intensity of the day and its revelations making her drowsy.

She laughed aloud, glad her eyes were closed when Sully reached the words to describe man and heard his quiet laughter join with hers as he pressed yet another kiss to her temple. He felt a boyish pride at being able to say such things in the presence of a lady like Michaela, feeling the heat inside him increase and burst forth on his cheeks. He was so glad that they had reached this point, a point where such words and ideas and descriptions could be met with the light comedic tone they deserved. He wanted to prolong this evening, so that even if they did not have chance to return to this closeness again before the wedding, he could look back and know what could be. But he hoped that they could, hoped that moments such as these could be drawn upon as a foundation for what was to be forever built upon between them, forever strengthened. If only he could get through Whitman's description of woman without loosing his mind!

She still felt so nervous about the wedding night and the ones that would follow, but now she felt better. She had begun to admit to herself that this could in fact be something wonderful, something that was well worth the wait, and something that would bind them together like nothing else could. Something that with practice could live up to the dreams both held tight to.

He read on, continuing the listing of the anatomy of man and woman, she picturing each mentioned piece as a safe image from her medical texts, unable to hold back a soft giggle at the thought that maybe Sully was not thinking in such black and white lines printed on a page.

He shifted so that he could look down at her face and still keep reading, her eyes were closed now, but he knew she was not sleeping.

She was indeed still awake, still listening. Feeling his gaze drinking her in, his intensity causing each place that his eyes came to rest upon to tingle warmer. Instinctively knowing that he was looking at her in a new way, feeling brave and exhilarated because she felt that she was finally free to let him.

Reaching the end he closed the book gently, placing it onto the ledge by the lamp.

"Michaela?"

She murmured softly in response, too comfortable to speak, "I think it's time for bed."

He saw her lips twitch into a smile that his joined, hearing how his own words would soon take on so many other meanings.

"Come on," he whispered, as he slipped his newly freed hand under her knees to gather her skirts. He lifted her, feeling her curl to fit him just perfectly. Wolf raised his head in curiosity as Sully carefully maneuvered the doorway, Michaela too warm and sleepy to object.

He quietly crossed the floor, surprised that he managed to remember not to stand on the creakiest board, as he moved over to the bed. Gently lowering her into the quilt.

Behind the gauzy curtain Colleen was long asleep, her book having slid away to the far away floor forgotten. Brian lay in sleep as he lived in life, arms thrown wide, ready to embrace the next great adventure.

As he moved to withdraw from Michaela's arms, still tangled about him, he felt his lips brush against the soft of her cheek in the shadowy darkness and before he could stop himself he had placed a kiss to her lips. Feeling just how soft they were against his.

He made to pull away, but was surprised to feel her arch up to follow his lips, using her arms to draw him back to her. The kiss changing, her lips, her mind warming up to gentle caresses.

The heated thoughts that had been provoked between them out on the porch suddenly finding an outlet, a freedom. Away from the faint chill of the night air that had reminded them of their surroundings, reminded them to behave.

Now they found themselves hidden by the shadows, allowed to express.

Tingles rushing between the sensitive skin, as she pulled him tighter against herself, provoking a heated gasp which both took advantage of. Their mouths remaining open and hot.

He could resist no longer, letting his weight press her more securely to the softness beneath.

Oh! The feel of his body crushed against hers, pressing her into the soft bed.

The feel of her curves against him! Her softness, her gentle trembling touch.

She felt sleepy and sensual and loved. As arms, and lips and tongues danced.

He surged ever closer to her, feeling need rush through his veins, pooling in his heavy limbs. The temperature between them changing from warm to simmering hot.

How did he usually manage to maintain such a careful distance from her?

How had she managed to hide her fiery passion from him for so long that now that given the chance to express it unchecked it burned so freely?

The faint stirring of one of the children as they battle childhood monsters in their sleep shattered their island of intimacy. Drew them back to the reality.

They broke apart gasping, blinking through the darkness at each other, registering the love, the awe, the desire, that burned deeply in their lust darkened eyes.

Both absorbed the intensity whilst they could. Storing it deep to look back upon in the future. This new knowledge of the powerful sparking between them. All these heady feelings too much to absorb all at once.

Sully's head snapped in the direction of the alcove knowing that it was too late if they had been caught to explain away their actions.

The sleeper had settled, good triumphant over the evil once again in the world of dreams and possibilities.

Their secret was one that they could keep safely between them.

She was smiling up at him when he turned back, enjoying the feel of his heart still pounding against her, actually quite pleased with herself. Feeling the exhilaration of their actions and the thrill of such a close call. How would they have explained away their abandonment of propriety to the children!

He had to smile to at the cheeky, dreamy look on her face. A look that, had they been truly alone, might have provoked more kissing with as much intensity as before, but he had to restrain.

He dropped a calming sweet kiss to the tip of her nose, lifting away from her, both feeling a pang at the flood of cold air that rushed to separate them further.

Standing he slid a woolen blanket off the rocking chair and carefully covered her with it, watching as she curled herself up beneath, her eyelids heavy and lowering just not quite ready to close.

He turned down the lamp beside her bed, throwing the room into almost complete darkness, the lamp outside the only beacon.

Leaning over her, he saw that she had given up the fight and her eyelashes lay heavy against her cheeks. He moved ever closer, gently rubbing his nose against hers as he whispered, "I love you so much," before placing one careful kiss to her swollen lips.

Then he stood once again, moving with quiet footsteps out of the cabin, signaling to Wolf to follow. He closed the heavy door before crossing to the two chairs that remained on the porch. Leaning down he gently blew out the lamp before his hands closed over his book, squeezing the leather and paper between his fingers.

What simple words could do…


End file.
